Love Me Dead
by Yamitron
Summary: Yami Marik rambles. Psychoshipping. Uploaded by request.


My head hurts today.

It seems as though I've made every abusive motion to my head as is possible. I've banged it on desks, walls, my own fists. I've slammed it, yanked at it, pounded it. It's like that theory of the television; hit something enough and it will be fixed. My head is clearly broken, and if I hit it enough, it will be magically repaired and all my problems will be solved.

I'm not talking about the pharaoh or his brats; I could care less in my priorities at the moment. There's only one person who's causing such pain in my head and pretty much everywhere else on my entire body. Bakura. That son of a bitch, Bakura. That dirty, rotten, no good, object stealing, people murdering, pain in the ass, son of a bitch, Bakura. I hate him. I hate him more than I thought possible.

I could hate him for logical reasons; ones you would expect. I could hate him for carving my chest open. I could hate him for his snide remarks and constantly sneering face. I could even hate him for just standing there, nonchalantly smoking, like nothing was bothering him while I'm being eaten alive from the inside. But the real reason I hate him, is for turning my life upside down, and voiding everything I had thought to be absolute truth.

I was created as a protector. A friend. The manifestation of Malik's inner rage so he could cope with his life. But I've obviously become more than that. I've only existed for 7 years. I don't even have my own body. I was made to know nothing but hate, vengeance, spite. Made to think nothing but death and destruction; I was happy with that. Well, as happy as a being of pure hate could be.

And then I broke free of Malik's mental chains he put on me after I killed our father. The ridiculous Battle City Blimp Duels. I emerged to take the body that was rightfully mine. I surveyed the people around me. All of them minuscule and weak compared to me. I smirked at them all, thinking how easy it would be to just rip their heads off and punt them from the blimp if I needed to. I strutted about with an air of superiority for a while, killing time before my battle plan was to be put in effect.

And then I laid my eyes on that sick bastard for the first time.

Ryou's body was of little interest to me; I hadn't paid attention. But when the spirit possessed it, the very feel of the air around him changed. I had merely glanced, but I had to do a double take, staring at him. I couldn't look away, and I didn't know why. I immediately felt something in the pit of my stomach, and instantly classified it as hatred. He saw me too and I smirked at him. That was as much interaction as we had.

He came to my room and interrogated me not long after. He insisted I restrain my hikari from bothering him, and then demanded I tell him why he wasn't killing me as we spoke. Hatred in my stomach bubbled, and I grabbed him by his shirt and kissed him, something I'm not sure why I did to this day. He forced me against a wall and we made out, moving from wall to floor to my bed, shedding clothing in the process.

He took my virginity that night, and in a way, I took his too.

By the end, we were both cut and had bled, (I more so than he, having new deep scars in my chest that would probably not heal, in the shape of the Millennium Ring) and we lie next to each other, breathing hard. I imagine he was as unsure why we did that to begin with as I was. We had said we hated each other many times. Nevertheless, I asked him to be mine, and by some cosmic shift, he said yes.

I still hate him. I hate him for confusing me. Weeks passed of fucking and talking, and I came to realize that the hatred bubbling in my stomach had been mislabeled. I didn't hate him. And I hated him for not hating him. I didn't and don't understand why one as he would be with one as me. He was easily the most beautiful creature I had ever seen in my 7 years of existence. It slightly scared me how much I craved to be in his company.

Have you ever heard Love Me Dead by Ludo? If you change the 'she's to 'he's and the 'her' to 'his', that is our relationship summed up in a single song.

"You're awful, I love you. She moves through moonbeams slowly. She knows just how to hold me. And when her edges soften, her body is my coffin. I know she drains me slowly. She wears me down to bones in bed. Must be the sign on my head that says, 'Love me Dead.' "

I hated him, and I was falling in love with him.

In the back of my mind, I had thought that he was just using me. That he would get sick of me and kill me, or worse, just leave me. I clung tightly to him when he held me, terrified that he would let go.

When he said he loved me, and said it before I did, my fear left me. He was mine, and I was his. I sometimes wonder if I've cracked his outer shell, and sometimes he allows me to see the vulnerability inside. Where some would squash it, I held it gently, kissing softly. My life was turned upside down from my hate existence.

I swear to Ra, we're going to end up killing each other in some form.

And so I beat my head, knowing there's something wrong in it, to have fallen in love.

My head hurts today.


End file.
